Chapter 47
Mine
Asher
The room is empty now. Silent, except for our breathing, for the thick tension hanging between us. Everyone obeyed me without hesitation, slipping away like ghosts, like they already knew what was coming.
She’s pushing me, calling me weak, and daring me to prove her wrong. A slow burn of something dangerous coils in my chest—part fury, and part something darker, something deeper. It’s not just about proving a point. It’s about reminding her exactly who I am, exactly who she belongs to.
Fine.
I slam her against the lab counter, glass beakers crashing to the floor, shattering on impact. She gasps, her hands flying to grip the counter, but I’m already there, grabbing her face, and forcing her to look at me.
"Weak?" My voice is a low growl, rough and vibrating with restrained fury. "You really want to test that theory, Kitten?"
Her pupils are blown wide, her breath coming in sharp, uneven pants.
My pulse spikes in response, a rush of heat tightening in my chest. My hands flex against her hips, gripping harder, and feeling the tension in her body—coiled, ready, and waiting to strike.
Her hands twitch at her sides, fingers flexing like she’s deciding whether to shove me or claw into me.
But there’s something else in those wide, dark eyes of hers—something she doesn’t want to acknowledge.
Need.
The tension shatters, and we crash into each other like we’re made to destroy.
My mouth slams against hers, bruising, consuming, and nothing gentle about it.
The moment our lips meet, heat surges through me, and a violent rush of something too intense to name.
She tastes like defiance and desire, like something forbidden that I can never quite get enough of.
Her breath is hot against my skin, every gasping inhale fueling the fire that’s already burning between us.
The softness of her lips contrasts with the sharpness of her bite, a perfect push and pull that leaves me dizzy with need.
It's been too long since I tasted her—too long since I had this, since I had her.
And fuck, I feel it everywhere. The way her lips mold against mine, the sharp sting of her bite, and the way she drinks me in like she needs this just as badly as I do.
She meets me just as hard, biting, clawing, and nails dragging down my arms like she wants to tear me open and climb inside.
Good. Let her.
I yank her hips against mine, forcing her to feel me, and to take the weight of her challenge, her defiance.
Every word she spat, every look she gave me, daring me to prove her wrong—it all crashes down between us.
She wants to fight me, to push me past reason, and fuck if I don’t want to let her try.
Her spine arches instinctively, her hands bracing against my shoulders to anchor herself.
The sound she makes—a breathless, and frustrated whimper—shoots straight through me, tightening everything.
My control frays, snapping one thread at a time, and I don’t fucking care.
She’s mine. She’s always been mine. No one else will ever have her like this. No one else will ever hear the sounds she makes for me. The way she breaks apart under me, the way she fights and then gives in—it's mine, and I’ll make damn sure she never forgets it.
The lab fills with the sound of chaos—glass breaking, the rough scrape of her back against the metal counter, and the way it shakes beneath us with every desperate movement. Destruction, raw and unchecked, and she thrives in it, feeds off it like she’s just as starved as I am.
The moment I pin her wrists down, her body stills—just for a second. Her lips part, eyes going wide, and breath catching in her throat. And then she exhales, shuddering, sinking into it.
She likes this.
Fuck.
I groan against her throat, dragging my teeth along the delicate skin, and biting just hard enough to make her squirm.
My grip tightens, locking her in place, and forcing her to feel every inch of me pressing into her.
She’s burning up, her skin fever-hot beneath my hands, and I want more.
More marks. More bruises. More of her wrecked beneath me.
I kiss her again, rough and consuming, swallowing the little gasps she gives when I shift, when I push, and when I let her feel just how fucking far gone I am.
"You’re mine." I don't even realize I've said it.
But she does. She goes still, her breath stuttering, her fingers flexing against my hold.
And then she moves.
Not to pull away. Not to push me off. But to fight.
Her hands shove at my chest, nails biting into my skin even through my shirt. A desperate, defiant struggle. But I know her. She needs to push, to bite, and to fight me every step of the way before she finally gives in.
Her breath is ragged, her lips swollen, and still, she smirks—sharp, wicked. "Yours? Since when?"
I let her resist, let her twist against me, let her push until I shove her right back, and pin her hips so hard against the counter she gasps.
My grip in her hair tightens, forcing her head back, baring her throat to me.
She pants, lips swollen from my kiss, her body arching instinctively, and betraying her.
"Is that really all you’ve got, Kitten?" I taunt, grinding against her, letting her feel exactly what she’s done to me. "Come on—fight harder. Make me earn it."
Her nails rake down my arms, sharp and unrelenting, but it’s not enough. I don’t want soft. I don’t want compliance. I want her desperate, needy, and trembling from the force of wanting me.
So I kiss her. Hard. Desperate. A collision of mouths, of tongues, and of teeth, like we’re both drowning, and this is the only thing keeping us alive. Her moan is swallowed by me, lost in the wet, brutal heat of it.
She meets me with the same fervor, her hands in my hair, yanking, and pulling, while her thighs squeezing around my waist, locking me into place.
It’s filthy. It’s violent. It’s everything we’ve held back for too long.
I reach down, yanking her against me, my fingers gripping her thighs, spreading her open as I grind into her, dragging a needy little cry from her throat.
"You feel that?" I rasp against her lips. "That’s what you do to me. That’s what you always fucking do to me."
She doesn’t answer. She can’t. Her breath stutters, her body shuddering beneath my grip. But she still fights. Her hips lift, pressing against me, and challenging me even now.
I slam my hand against the counter beside her head, knocking over more glass, and sending shards scattering across the floor. "Let me hear you say it," I demand, my voice wrecked, low, dangerous.
She lets out a ragged breath, eyes wild, and mouth parted like she wants to deny me just to see what I’ll do. But then—
She breaks.
Her body stiffens first, like she wants to keep fighting, to push back one last time. But then a shudder rolls through her, her breath catching, and her hands grip me tighter as a low, wrecked sound slips from her lips. Not surrender. Not submission. Just raw, unfiltered need.
I grip her chin, forcing her to look at me. "That’s right," I hiss, dragging my mouth over hers, biting at her lower lip before soothing it with my tongue. "Mine."
She trembles, fingers flexing against my shoulders. "Yours," she breathes.
I growl, heat surging through me, the need to take her, claim her, and brand her overwhelms every last shred of control I have left.
I don’t ease her down onto the counter. I take her. Hard. Fast. Bruising.
My hands move with purpose, tearing at her clothes, yanking up her shirt, and shoving it over her head before she can even protest. Her bra follows, straps snapping under my grip, and baring her to me in one swift motion.
I don’t stop to admire—I don’t have the patience for that.
Instead, my mouth finds her neck, trailing rough, open-mouthed kisses down to her collarbone, biting, sucking, and leaving my mark on every inch of her skin.
She gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders, but I don’t slow.
My hands travel lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of her pants, yanking them down in a single, and unrelenting motion.
She’s wet—soaking, slick, ready for me, and fuck if that doesn’t send a surge of possessive satisfaction straight through me.
I grip her thighs, spreading her open, and positioning her exactly where I want her. She trembles beneath my touch, but she doesn’t shrink away—no, she lifts her hips, pressing into me, and demanding more.
"Look at you," I rasp, running a rough hand up the inside of her thigh before dragging my fingers through her slick heat. "So fucking wet for me, Kitten. You gonna tell me this isn’t what you wanted?"
She glares, defiant even now, but her body betrays her, hips rolling forward, chasing my touch.
I chuckle darkly. "That’s what I thought." And give her exactly what she needs.
I thrust into her in one sharp, claiming movement, and swallowing the gasp ripping from her lips with a searing, desperate kiss.
Her legs wrap around me, holding me there, and her nails raking down my back as she tries to match my pace—fast, brutal, and unrelenting.
Every thrust sends her sliding against the cold steel, every movement a reminder that I own this moment. I own her.
And she loves it.
Her cries fill the lab, raw and desperate, echoing off the walls, and mixing with the wreckage around us.
Every breath, every whimper, and every gasping moan pushes me closer to the edge, her body a perfect, overwhelming vice around me.
Glass crunches under my boots as I move, as I press her down, as I give her exactly what she needs.
She meets me thrust for thrust, her body clenching around me, dragging me deeper, and demanding more.
"Harder," she gasps, and fuck—
I give it to her.
I slam into her, claiming, consuming, and destroying her the way she’s wrecked me.
My hand wraps around her throat, not tight enough to cut off air completely, but just enough to make her gasp, to make her body tighten around me in response.
Her pulse thrums beneath my fingers, wild and erratic, a perfect echo of my own.
She moans, the sound breaking into a whimper as I squeeze just a little harder, and push her deeper into the pleasure only I can give her.
And then it hits her—hard and all-consuming.
Her body locks, her back arching off the counter as pleasure crashes through her like a breaking wave.
A strangled cry rips from her throat, her fingers digging into my arms, and her nails bite deep as she loses herself in it.
Her eyes flutter closed, her lips parting, and her whole body trembling as I tighten my grip just enough to push her higher until she’s right on the edge of too much.
At the last second, I release her throat, and she gasps, sucking in air like she’s been drowning in pleasure.
Her body jerks violently, a strangled, breathless cry spilling from her lips as she splinters apart, and her entire body seizes in pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
Her nails dig into my back, her thighs squeezing tight around me, trying to ground herself as the aftershocks pulse through her, while one wave after another, leaves her wrecked beneath me.
The sound she makes—raw, broken, and utterly wrecked—shoots through me, the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever heard.
Pain rips through me, white-hot and unrelenting, but my body continues surging forward as I claim her in every way possible.
My grip on her hips is bruising, anchoring us both as I drive into her, and chase that final, obliterating release.
A guttural growl rips from my throat, the force of my release slamming into me like a breaking storm.
My entire body feels on fire, my hips driving into her one final time as pleasure detonates, and drags me under.
The world narrows to her—to the feel of her clenching around me, the way her body still trembles, and the raw, shattered way she breathes my name like I’m the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.
I bite her throat; it’s a final mark, a brand that will linger long after this moment fades. Her gasp turns into a sharp, breathless whimper, and her fingers tighten against my skin like she never wants to let go.
And maybe I don’t either.
She’s mine.
Always has been.